


Pyrrhic

by minorvariation



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dramatic Irony, F/M, Fractured Alliances, Gen, Missing Scene, we don't talk about Iokath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minorvariation/pseuds/minorvariation
Summary: pyr·rhic (adj): won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor.Back from the mission on Iokath, Maia Sunder weighs the consequences of her command decisions.





	Pyrrhic

_“I had a son once. He dedicated his life to defending the Republic.”_

_“If we turn against them now, what message does that send to the rest of our followers?”_

_“If we ever want things to change for the better, we can’t be the first to break faith!”_

_“Fine. I can’t_ make _you do the smart thing...”_

_“--you’ve sided with the tyrant aiming a gun at the Republic’s head!”_

_“...now you’re gone, and I couldn’t save you…”_

_“--FATHER!”_

“Commander?”

Blinking her way out of the downward spiral of her thoughts felt like stepping out of a dark tunnel. Odessen’s daylight fell softly over the wooded mountainside and the familiar outlines of the Alliance base, with none of the uneasy quality of the artificial light of Iokath, but just now to Maia even this much seemed too bright.

Pushing back the impulse to rub her eyes, she turned to find Lana standing expectantly at her elbow. Behind her, the landing had gone quiet; a handful of people moved outside the base, techs going about their work, a pair of troopers speaking to one another in voices muted by distance, but the noise and bustle of personnel offloading supplies and equipment from the Gravestone had at some point ceased.

With sudden chagrin, Maia realized just how long she’d been standing there lost in thought.

If Lana was at all perturbed by her inattention, she had the grace not to let on. Lana, Maia thought ruefully, could give more than a few Jedi lessons on patience - present company included. 

The Sith-gold eyes regarding her held only polite concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Maia offered the other woman an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was just a little preoccupied.” 

“I’d imagine so. The events on Iokath have given all of us a lot to process.” 

Maia smiled wanly at the understatement.

“I’ve made inquiries,” Lana went on, “and so far it seems like nothing out of the ordinary occurred while we were away. I took the liberty of beginning a sweep of the base for surveillance devices - we were nearly due for a routine check in any case, but given our information leak, a more in-depth search is clearly needed.”

She paused for a moment, seeming to wait for Maia to reply, but when no reply came she added, “All of your command staff will also be thoroughly investigated, as we discussed.”

“...Right.” The word left Maia in a sigh. “So much for giving trust to receive trust, I guess.”

Lana’s voice softened. “It’s unfortunate,” she said. “But we can’t afford to sit idle.”

“No, you’re right. I hate to think of anyone in the Alliance turning traitor, but…”

(“ _BLINDED BY DUTY. DISTRACTED BY TRUST. YOU DID NOT SEE THE BLADE TO YOUR NECK._ _THE RAGE IN YOUR SHADOW._ ”)

The metallic voice reverberated unbidden in her memory. Maia flexed her fingers, opening and closing her hand at her side as she remembered the painful jolt of energy coursing through muscle and nerve, the moments before consciousness had fled.

The evidence of Iokath spoke for itself.

(“ _YOU ARE BETRAYED._ ”)

Meeting Lana’s eyes squarely, she said, “I need to know how this happened.”

“We’ll find the one responsible,” Lana promised. “The moment I know anything, you’ll know.”

“Thanks, Lana.” Subsiding into quiet for a moment, Maia looked away across the canyon, watching the haze of mist curl amidst the distant trees. “Has there been any news out of the Republic?”

She felt rather than saw Lana start beside her at the abrupt change of topic, could picture without having to see the faint surprise flash over her face before shifting into a look of understanding. “Not yet. I expect the chain of command in disarray at the moment.”

 _That happens when you kill the Supreme Commander of the entire armed forces._ She exhaled, a fruitless effort to expel the bleak thought from her mind.

“Theron would have more direct sources of information on the current state of affairs,” Lana said, ”but…”

Maia shook her head, forestalling the rest of what Lana was going to say. “No, it's all right. The boot’s bound to drop soon enough anyway.” 

And for all that Theron was doing his best to bury himself in work, asking him to investigate the response to his father’s death seemed like nothing but adding insult to injury. She’d done enough damage as it was. There was no sense in piling needless cruelty on top of it.

“We have our own house to get in order before that happens. Commander--”

She closed her aching eyes against the Odessen sunlight, brought up both hands to press her fingertips against her eyelids.

“Maia.” At the gentle press of a touch settling on her shoulder, she let her hands drop from her face and looked up to find Lana regarding her with concern. “If you need to talk…”

“What’s your evaluation of how things went on Iokath?”

This time she saw Lana’s eyes widen, her expression faltering into uncertainty.

“Your honest evaluation,” Maia pressed. “Please, Lana.”

Lana let out a slow breath, seeming to gather her thoughts. “We were at a disadvantage before we landed,” she began at last. “If we - if _I_ had been more vigilant, we might have recognized the trap sooner, perhaps even avoided it altogether.”

“...you know I’m not blaming you.” It came out in a murmur, almost carried away by the breeze.

“I know.” No hesitation. The burnished gold of Lana’s eyes held her gaze, direct and unwavering. “Regardless, once the Empire and the Republic had both established a military presence, escalation was unavoidable. You succeeded in neutralizing the Tyth superweapon before either side could claim it, almost certainly preventing incalculable loss of life. In that sense, I believe we can consider Iokath a win. Not an unqualified victory,” she allowed, “but a win nonetheless.”

Maia stood very still, digesting what Lana had said. There was no denying any of the facts as they’d been stated, and yet…

She looked away over the canyon again, trying to ignore the searing echo of lightsaber against lightsaber that buzzed in her ears. “I think the cost might have been too high.”

“Jace Malcom’s death was his own doing. Not yours.”

The air hitched out of her, almost a laugh. “It’s not that simple.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for his choices.”

“Choices he made because of the decision _I_ made, when I chose the Empire over the Republic.” Maia shook her head in a short, vehement jerk. “I might not have pulled the trigger myself, but how can I possibly pretend I’m not responsible for his death? To say nothing of the lives I did take - Republic soldiers, Jedi--!”

“You were in an impossible position,” Lana interrupted her, quiet but firm. “Whatever you chose meant breaking faith with someone. If the ultimate fault lies anywhere, it’s with the one who created the situation in the first place by luring all of us into confrontation.”

Maia could find no response to that, caught between the sense that Lana’s reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong, and the conviction that she was, at the same time, very much not _right_.

“It may not be any consolation, but…” That ‘but’ hung in the air, gently prompting, until Maia lifted her head to meet Lana’s eyes again. “I, for one, appreciate that you don’t allow old grudges to guide your decisions. I always have.”

She swallowed, managed a halfhearted smile. “I try, anyway.”

“You do more than most.”

There should’ve been some comfort in it, however cold. The more Maia tried to reassure herself, though, the more the cynical voice in the back of her thoughts began to sound like Theron’s: _So, how’s the view from the high ground?_

Lana must have read something of it on her face, because she grasped Maia’s upper arms as though to hold her steady. “I know all of this has been difficult,” she said. “I wish I could tell you that you made the right call, but I’m afraid only time can truly judge any of our actions. The full scope of the consequences may never be clear in our lifetimes.”

“...Remind me in the future not to ask for your honest evaluation unless I’m sure I’m ready to hear it.”

“ _However_ ,” Lana continued sternly. “What I do know for certain is this: your decision on Iokath wasn’t reached lightly. Like every other decision you’ve made as commander of the Alliance, you chose thinking of what would do the most good. It’s why I’ve followed you all this time. And it’s why there’s no one I’d have trusted more to make that call.”

She meant it only as reassurance, Maia knew, but even so the pressure of Lana’s faith in her came down on her shoulders like a physical weight. It took all her effort not to shudder.

“Thank you, Lana,” she managed to say.

The grip on her upper arms squeezed gently before Lana released her and took a step back. “For now,” she said, “you should try to get some rest.”

 _Before the next crisis hits._ She didn’t say it; she didn’t have to. “Probably,” Maia agreed, and drew in a breath. “If there are any new developments in the next few hours…”

“I’ll let you know at once.”

Maia nodded. There didn’t seem to be much else to say. With Lana’s somber gaze upon her, she cast one more look off across the canyon, searching the distant wilderness for answers she knew it couldn’t possibly hold.

Then she turned and made her way inside.

She’d meant to make for her quarters, but as the lift descended slowly farther into the base, the idea of closing herself in alone with her thoughts filled Maia with a creeping dread. Halfway across the War Room she changed her course, turning for the corridor that would lead her to the Force-users’ enclave instead. Maybe in that sanctuary, she’d be able to find some clarity in meditation - and if she couldn’t, at least she could find distraction.

With this thought occupying her mind, she rounded the corner and nearly plowed headlong into someone coming the other way.

He bit off a curse, fumbling the datapad he’d been reading. Entirely on reflex, Maia caught it just as it slipped from his hands entirely. 

“I’m so sorry--”

Halfway through blurting out the apology, she finally looked up. The rest of the words died unspoken in her throat, conscious thought abandoning her completely as she found herself eye to eye with the one person she wanted most and least to see.

Theron made a quiet noise, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “...hey.”

He looked awful. It was the first thought that surfaced in her mind as she stood there struggling to recover some kind of equilibrium - even in the diffuse light of the underground hallway, she could see far too clearly the fatigue that lined his face. His fascinating eyes, normally so keen, had gone dim and full of shadows, and he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze. 

( _“Your dreams are almost as bad as mine.”_ )

Belatedly, Maia realized she was still holding his datapad. “Ah,” she said lamely, offering it back to him. “This--”

“--Yeah.” Just as awkwardly, he gripped the datapad between both hands. “Thanks.”

Then silence. The air between them felt thick enough to suffocate on.

How had things ended up like this?, she wondered helplessly. She’d never found talking to Theron difficult before. If anything, in those early days on Rishi and Yavin 4 it had been almost too easy, so much that she’d found it a little unsettling at times how natural it felt to work with him, to just _talk_ to him about anything or nothing at all.

Now the silence stretched like a gulf between them. Iokath, the Republic, the Empire, Jace Malcom’s death… all of it combined into a gaping wound Maia had no idea how to mend. She had to make it right somehow, but try as she might the words wouldn’t come.

Anything she could think to say just seemed hollow. A bandage for her own feelings, not his.

Even so, she had to do _something_ before the distance grew too wide to bridge. “Theron,” she began, only for the shrilling of a holocom to split the air and send both of them grabbing reflexively for their comlinks.

“Sorry.” Theron mumbled it, his eyes turned downward to the blinking holocom in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for this contact.”

Helplessly, Maia accepted that the moment was lost. “Of course,” she said with what grace she could manage, feeling the gulf widen a little more with each word. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He nodded and turned away. For the space between one breath and the next, he seemed to hesitate - but then the comm shrilled again and Theron hitched his shoulders, lengthening his stride until he was lost to sight.

 _I have to fix this,_ Maia thought as she stared after him, alone in the empty corridor.

The problem was, she wasn’t at all sure that she _could_.


End file.
